Caramel
by Killer Moth
Summary: It is the story of a cop and a hooker on a vacant lot. Rated M for major sexual themes.


Disclaimer: I don't own the characters you read before you. All rights belong to Wolf Films and all that.

Author's Note: Just inspiration from a line in "Aftershock". Try to guess which one. That combined with an Angie picture gave birth to this. For your reference, her ensemble here was based from a Sean Combs birthday party. I don't know what year (I think 01, 02) and as to why she went, beats me. Picture is available on request.

Besides, after the heavy drama of the past three works, it's time for some light erotica. I'm still playing with different narrative formats as stated before.

Beta: Still looking.

Timeline: Doesn't matter.

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A night breeze wafted over an abandoned lot in Staten Island, no manmade disturbances for miles. Suddenly, a Jeep Grand Cherokee SUV arrived and shattered the tranquility. After the machine settled, the driver focused on the starlight above, fingers tapping upon the steering wheel.

Irritated, she was ready to depart when an approaching motorcycle hummed into the background. The biker was an aged, lanky police officer with a fine Roman nose and the woolliest eyebrows.

She lowered her window as he popped out of his eagle-design helmet. "Ma'am, I hear that you need the services of a cop?"

"You're late, Jack; I was about to take off."

"I'm sorry, Abbie. Blame traffic, plus finding a discreet place to change — can't drive on the public roads because of the real cops."

"For a fantasy, aren't you going through quite a bit of trouble for it? Hell, we could have done this at the apartment."

"I could, but the out of the way dirt road, the isolation, it makes the fantasy complete in an atmospheric kind of way. Especially since we can't very well go off and do this properly in a city alley."

"I must be out of my mind to say 'yes' to this."

Jack kissed her tenderly. "I know it's a lot to ask. To be honest, I didn't think you would. Look, if you're not up for it, just say no at anytime. Can't go on without giving you an out, remember?"

Abbie's expression tempered. "Well, my common sense is telling me to drive away, but the rest of me is another story. As you've said, it'll make for interesting indulgence and I do want to make up for your birthday since I was busy at work. I'm sure your father would rise from the dead if he knew what you were up to. And Lennie and his ilk would join him if they knew, too."

The dusk shrouded his blush. "Welcome to my private side, Abbie. You know, when I thought about becoming one of them, I couldn't help but wonder what goes through their heads regarding this: give in, survive the temptation, or have a happy ending."

"While you're doing a nice job stirring my intellect, this isn't the time for a psychological debate."

"You're right. Now, would saying, 'I love you' wreck the moment, considering everything?"

"Ask me that later when I need a cop." She winked. "Yeah, Jack, I love you, too. But next time, pick a fantasy that won't get you possibly arrested or, more importantly, me."

"Aren't you ego-centric?"

"Hey, you've had a good, long career — I'm just starting out. I can't afford indiscretion." She reddened.

"Abbie, I don't want to embarrass you."

"Jack, I went through the trouble of dressing up as a hooker and driving to the middle of nowhere for you. I'm seeing this through."

"You're far too good for me."

"Yeah, and are you going to pay for it. My terms will come later."

The statuesque young woman then flaunted herself before him. She was festooned in a red mesh chemise with a white T-Shirt underneath, a gray plaid miniskirt, black fishnet stockings, and matching spike heels. In addition, she also sported plastic wrist bracelets, chain suspenders, a plaid Scally cap, and a hot pink wig. The moonlight accentuated her natural features: tan skin and perfect cheekbones.

Jack's eyes widened. "Only you could make that look good."

"Don't suck up."

"I'm only telling the truth, Abbie."

"Shouldn't we get into character now, 'Officer'? My name is Caramel, remember?"

"Oh, right, 'Caramel'. I only hope we can keep a straight face."

"You, at least, can pass off as a cop — I, on the other hand, look like a refuge from a Whitesnake video."

"As long as you don't reference Poison next. You ready?"

"Do that again and I'll make a Clash joke that will literally make you cry, and I'm as ready as I'll ever be," Abbie said flatly.

The policeman moseyed around, feigning inspection of the scene.

"Alright, where's the fire? Besides in your fled customer's pants, I mean. Spread them," he articulated in a semi-Irish brogue.

The prostitute scrunched her nose and placed her hands upon the hood. "What's the problem, Officer? I don't see any customers," she voiced sulkily.

"Nice voice."

"Jack."

"Right. The problem is that you're under arrest for prostitution."

"But I didn't do anything wrong. Can't you just let me off with a warning? It's my only first offense. Wait, can I be more of a worldly hooker?"

"Abbie."

"Fine, it's your stupid fantasy," she muttered.

"Ma'am, I'm afraid I'll have to take you downtown."

"Officer, it's not 'Ma'am', it's 'Caramel.'"

"Whatever your name is, you're under arrest."

She waved her derriere enticingly. "You're not going to frisk me, are you?"

"Hold still while I put the cuffs on." Jack seized her wrists, his clothed erection chafing against her buttock.

"Is that your nightstick poking me, Officer, or are you just happy to see me?"

"Well, I…" 

She faced the aroused male. "You find me attractive?"

"I do, but I have my duty."

She eyeballed the rising swell. "Come on, Officer, all those long nights carrying a beat, must be lonely."

He cautiously released her. "It is."

"Don't you wish you had some company for that? Someone nice and sweet like me?" Caramel tipped over and nibbled on his ear.

Jack froze whilst her hands groped him. "Doesn't that feel good? You let me go and we can do this all night long."

"I don't know."

"Officer, you need a little Caramel in your life. 'Need a little Caramel in your life'? I can't believe I just said that."

"Abbie."

"Next time, I'm writing a script. So, would you like a treat? I don't offer this to just anybody, you know." She was at his fly, torturously unzipping.

"I shouldn't."

"Then why are you so hard? Admitting it to yourself is the first step. Say how much you want me and what you want me to do to you," she whispered, his zipper undone.

"I am…hard for you, but there is nothing else."

"It's a start, anyway. Now, what would you like me to do?" She tugged at his hardened penis.

"I want you; I want to touch me," he huffed.

"Like this?" Her fingers slithered forth and clasped all-around his shaft, squeezing.

"What a big nightstick you have, Officer." The female pumped him little by little. The two swapped positions, his backside on the vehicle.

"Feels so good, Caramel."

She amplified the stroking. "I could say the same. I know you're thinking it, so say it."

"I want you to suck it. I want you to suck me off."

She leered wantonly. "I've always wanted to suck on a cop's nightstick." She crouched downward, tentatively licking the pre-cum.

"Oh, Abbie."

She smiled as she unbuckled his pants. "I'll let that one go." Caramel's eyes lit up at his pubic hair.

"Oh, gray hairs — you've definitely gotten some mileage. But judging from how hard you are, I don't have to worry about you wimping out."

"Who says sex ends at sixty?"

"Not me. I wonder how you taste." Her lips rested on his corona, murmuring in approval.

"Oh, God, Caramel."

The hooker wasted no time as she absorbed every inch. She unexpectedly plunged in further, reaching for his base.

"Abbie!"

His eyes roamed to hers, a devilish glint within. "It's fun watching you twist and squirm, Officer."

"Starting to get carried away. You keep that up and I'll cum soon, Caramel."

Her sucking combined with scraping of teeth had the man set to explode. She extricated herself in a final vacuum effect.

"Not yet. First, you're going to reward your Caramel." She again switched poses with him and hopped upon the engine cover, splaying open her legs.

Jack clenched his teeth. "Damn you."

"Hey, the best things in life aren't for free, Officer. Besides, you know you want it." She hoisted up her skirt to reveal the dampened cleft.

"I don't suppose a slight payment would hurt." He nudged his way southward. Caramel draped a leg over his shoulder, knocking off his cap and exposing his salt-and-pepper hair.

"Come on, Officer."

"Patience." He puckered his lips on her clitoris, suckling.

She groaned and impelled herself upward. "More."

He abraded her with his teeth, reciprocating her final trick.

"Oh, yes! Yes!"

The cop lapped up the slickness, circling a ring inside. "Well, I had always wondered what a hooker tasted like, too."

She gripped his hair, towing him in. "I do love irony."

"You think that's something? Try this." He then ceased his ministrations. "I said, 'slight payment' for good reason. Now, how does it feel?"

"I loathe you," she hissed.

"I could have brought you to climax and _then_ stopped — like you did."

"I hate it when you're right. And, yeah, I am wet enough."

"Let's seal it first." Jack rubbed her labia with his fingers. "How does that feel?"

"Like I want you, Officer."

His entire palm was sodden in her fluid. "And I want my Caramel."

She twisted about, her rear to him. "Hit me with that nightstick, Jack."

He immediately removed his slacks and bolstered his leg onto the truck, supporting himself. With a grunt, he slid inside her.

"So, this is what indulgence does to me: sucking your cock off in the official middle of nowhere and screwing over the hood of my SUV. Complete with dressing as a hooker — I think this is what love is." She latched onto his bare posterior, tugging inwardly.

"First, take off that wig — I want Abbie, not Caramel." He rocked his hips, the rhythm gradual.

She speedily compiled. "No more games?"

"No more games."

"Then give us what we both want."

He gnawed a hickey on her neck. "Okay, I _do_ want a little Caramel."

"So, this is what it's like to be dirty in the good way."

"Or to be good in the dirty way, Abbie," he purred.

She moaned in reply. The only other sound to be heard was their to and fro connecting flesh.

He nuzzled her ear. "I wish I could spill into you, but we have to be authentic, right?"

"I know; I didn't want to use a condom, anyway."

He quickened, each thrust furthermore goading. The duo entered an animalistic frenzy, waiting for the climax. Inadvertently, Abbie's hand edged to her clit, kneading the pulsing organ. She shrieked to her delight, the discharge splattering upon him.

"Wow, you're quick." A few prods later, Jack extracted himself and the semen jetted onto her skirt.

"That's going to be hard to wash out," she bewailed.

He wilted on top of her. "Sorry, can't control where those land."

"Oh, God."

"That sums it up for me, too."

"No, not that. I accidentally rubbed my clit right before I climaxed. Damn it, I'm sorry, Jack."

"What for?"

She wiped away a trickling tear. "Because it wasn't genuine — that my body didn't think you were satisfactory enough, so I had to do it myself. I'm sorry; I wasn't thinking."

He embraced his lover tautly. "Abbie, it's alright. This isn't new to me by any means. I've been with my share of women — I know how difficult it is for women to orgasm period. You did nothing wrong, but thank you for caring about my feelings, though. Along with my male ego, while I'm at it."

She sniffed, withholding the tears. "Happy Birthday, Jack."

"Thank you so much for this."

"You're welcome. Now, can we get the hell out of here?"

He grinned heartily. "Oh, God, yes, before any police arrive. Now, help me load up the Beemer and I'll drive."

She clasped her hands together as he retrieved his fallen pants. "You're forgetting something: what about _my_ terms?"

"Not the cowboy thing?"

"Do I have to play the prosecutor card, Jack? You know I can and I will. So, don't even bother."

"I resist because of my sense of pride?"

They stacked his BMW motorcycle onto the spacious back trunk. "Weren't you talking about ego a minute ago? You know you're being a hypocrite right now, right?"

"Yeah. I love you and all, but do I have to wear the boots?"

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Another mechanical night passed Detective Mike Logan, the boredom of his current caseload crushing. Weren't for the late hour, he'd go eye the barges. Driving home in ennui, a suspicious SUV scrammed in front of him. Suspecting the worst, he activated his siren.

Once again, he yearned for the excitement of Manhattan or excitement period. He trudged to the halted car, a bored look on his face.

"Okay, where's the fire?"

His eyes detonated at the sight: his old rival, Executive Assistant District Attorney Jack McCoy, dressed as a patrol officer, with who appeared to be a Hispanic prostitute in his passenger seat. For Mike Logan, it was opportunity.

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Leave a review if you wish, and see you in the funny papers.


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